


Warriors Dragons: Into the Wild

by multilefaiye



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, it's me back at it again with another fucking dragon au, not flight rising this time though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multilefaiye/pseuds/multilefaiye
Summary: For generations, four clans of dragons have shared the jungles of the Valley according to the laws laid down by their ancestors. But their Warrior Code has been threatened, and the dragons of Tempest are in danger. Every day, their enemies, Murk, grow stronger. Noble warriors are dying—and some deaths are more mysterious than others. In the midst of this turmoil appears a young dragon named Ferrus, who may turn out to be the bravest warrior of them all.
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> "Multi PLEASE stop starting new writing projects you have so many already" [takes a long sip of water] no
> 
> Anyway here's my rewrite of Into the Wild where they're all dragons now, along with some... other changes. I've been thinking about this AU for.... a while... and I wanted to work on it so here we go another goddamn project let's see how far I get with this one

The jungle air was still, as though every animal was holding its breath in anticipation. Dark shadows crept through the moonlight, their claws scraping across the rocks beneath them as they walked. At the front was a powerful, muscular beast covered in dark scales crisscrossed with black stripes, flexing his talons as he paced across the stones. Behind him were dragons of similar builds, following him silently.

A shrieking roar pierced the stillness, and the creatures turned towards the nearby river with echoing snarls. At once, sleek shapes began crawling out of the water, toothy jaws filling the air with roars like screams. They lunged for the dragons on the shore, hooked claws outstretched.

Very soon, the stone-strewn banks were covered in fighting, writhing dragons. The muscular dragon slashed at the first dragon he saw, a slick wyrm with a long body that grabbed for one of his powerful legs. His talons tore through the fragile webbing in the beast’s fins like tissue paper, but they persisted through the pain.

Screams of rage and pain filled the air as the dragons fought, prompting him to flatten his small ears to his skull. He clamped his thick, muscular jaws around the other dragon’s thin forelimb, snapping bone with an audible crack. The other dragon clawed viciously at his face, thrashing in an attempt to free themself and hissing when the muscular dragon pinned them to the ground with a massive paw.

The muscular dragon spat out the mangled limb, his teeth stained with dark blood, and growled, “What is the meaning of this, Oakscale? These are Tempest lands-- _ your kind _ has no right to trespass here!”

Oakscale grinned viciously, digging his own hooked talons into the paw holding him down as he replied, “These are Creek hunting grounds! Everything the rivers and sea touch are  _ ours _ , just as we agreed!” The sleek dragon kicked up with his hind limbs, digging them into the muscular dragon’s belly and scraping uselessly at the thick armored plates.

“More are coming!” one of the muscular dragon’s allies cried, throwing the wyrm she was grappling with back into the river. Indeed, before his eyes, dozens more dragons were slipping out of the water and joining the battle. They hardly even stopped to shake the water from their scales as they pounced into the fray.

The muscular dragon narrowed his eyes at them, his heart pounding in his chest as he considered his options. Coming to a decision, he abruptly shoved Oakscale away, powerful paws cracking something in the smaller dragon’s thin shoulders as he did.

“You may swim like merkind,” he spat, “but these forests belong to us!” He headbutted Oakscale, knocking him backward. Before he could lunge and finish off the troublesome wyrm, a terrified shriek of agony, achingly familiar, caught his attention.

A thin, wiry dragon was being pinned to the ground by a dragon much larger than her, his jaws clamped down around one of her small, bony wings. Before the muscular dragon’s eyes, her attacker  _ pulled _ and  _ pulled _ until she’d torn the wing from its socket, prompting another shrieking sob of pain.

The muscular dragon spat at Oakscale one more time before he turned to help her. He headbutted her attacker, goring him with his long horns as he shoved her away. Not caring whether the impact killed the river-crawling wyrm, he turned his eyes to the dragon.

“Mousefoot, run!” he snarled at her, protectively shielding her from the fray with his body Though a furious fire burned in her eyes, her mangled shoulder and the wing hanging limply at her side seemed enough to convince her not to argue. She nodded mutely and turned away, small claws scrabbling across the stones as she fled back into the trees.

The Creek warrior had recovered by this point and lunged for the muscular dragon, her long teeth stained in blood and bared in a snarl. He was ready for her, though, and parried her away with a vicious slash across her face.

The muscular dragon snapped at her, his jaws closing with an audible click as she rolled out of his reach. Before he could attack again, he was interrupted by yet another familiar roar.

“Longclaw!” a dragon with a bright red, whiplike tail shouted as he spread his massive wings. “This is useless! There are too many of them!” A Creek dragon tried to sink their teeth into the red-tailed dragon’s throat, missing by only inches as he jerked his head back.

“This is our territory!” the muscular dragon spat back at him. “We can’t let these waterlogged curs take it from us!” Tempest will  _ never  _ be beaten!” The red-tailed dragon’s eyes hardened at the challenge, baring his teeth.

“Your courage is admirable,” he replied, a growl in his voice, “but this is not a battle we can win. Bluemane would never demand us to face these impossible odds, and these shores are  _ not _ worth losing any more lives.”

He ignored Longclaw’s furious protests and lifted his head as he took flight, gliding in a circle above the stone-covered banks. The sound of those great wings beating the air was enough to make the fighting dragons pause, if only for a moment.

“Retreat!” he roared. “Tempest, retreat!” He turned and flew away over the trees, his long tail twisting in the air behind him.

Oakscale, who had crawled back onto land, and his warriors looked at each other almost in confusion as the Tempest dragons began fleeing from the clearing. Some flew, some ran, and some carried the wounded as they raced to follow the red-tailed dragon.

When he realized what was happening, the finned dragon’s face broke out in a wide grin. He stood up on his hindquarters, fanning out his own wings behind him. Oakscale puffed out his chest and  _ howled _ victoriously into the night air, his fellow Creek dragons soon joining in.

Longclaw paused at the edge of the trees, glaring at the celebrating wyrms with hatred burning in his eyes. He stared for a long moment before he turned to follow the rest of his clan, hardly even reacting to the stinging pain of his wounds.

Later that night, elsewhere in the jungle, an old, steel blue dragon sat in another clearing, resting on a flat stone. A curled mane flowed from her long neck, glittering faintly in the moonlight. The old dragon was troubled, deep shadows under her eyes betraying her lack of sleep. She stared up at the stars above her, brow furrowed and mouth turned downward into a worried frown.

The old dragon tensed as she heard a rustle of shifting grass, turning her head to see another dragon, with beautiful iridescent scales and white splotches, approaching. She, too, was exhausted, making her way towards the old dragon with careful, loping strides. 

“How are they?” the blue dragon asked, dipping her head in greeting. The other dragon sighed, her shoulders drooping as she sat.

“They’ll live,” she said, “but their wounds are deep. I believe all of them will recover, but we almost lost some of them.” Her long, curved ears lowered as she added, thoughtfully, “Mousefoot is very lucky--she is still young and the bones in her wing will heal as long as she rests.”

“We’re  _ all  _ lucky to have a skilled healer like you,” the blue dragon said with a fond smile, prompting a snort from her companion. Her smile faded as she looked up at the stars above. The night was clear, not a single cloud in sight, but she saw no answers in the many constellations.

“We haven’t been beaten in our own territory since I became leader,” she said. “Creek has never been so… vicious in their desire to claim our territory, and I fear this is a sign of terrible things to come.” She sighed. “The warm season is ending soon and we have only a pawful of eggs laid--if we are to survive, we will need more warriors.”

“There will be more eggs,” the healer consoled her, voice soft and gentle. “There always are. You just need to give it time, Bluemane, and have faith in our ancestors.”

Bluemane was clearly not satisfied with this answer, flicking a long ear as she remarked, “It takes time for our young to hatch, and even longer for us to train them. I’m afraid we have no time to wait. We will not be so lucky in our next battle.” Again, her eyes flickered up to the stars, desperately searching for something,  _ anything _ .

The healer paused and followed her gaze. For a long moment, the pair were silent, before she spoke again. “The ancestors have not spoken to me in some time,” she said, her voice apologetic. “I’m afraid I don’t know what they want from us…”

“It’s time like these that our ancestors must guide us,” Bluemane said with faux confidence, though her voice wavered.

The healer shifted and sat up, coiling her tail as she glanced to the sky again. This time, when she did, she paused. Something flashed in her eyes and her jaw fell slack, her body stiffer than stone as she stared. Immediately, Bluemane was concerned.

“What is it?” Bluemane asked frantically, but the healer did not answer. Her eyes were glazed over as she kept her gaze trained on the very top of the treeline. The world stood still and held its breath until the healer’s eyes cleared after what felt like a century of waiting.

“Our ancestors have spoken to me,” the healer murmured finally as she returned to herself. This caught Bluemane’s attention, something hopeful in the old dragon’s eyes as she regarded her companion. The healer’s face was serious as she turned to face her.

“Fire,” she said. “Fire will save our clan.”

Bluemane bristled at the idea, baring her teeth unconsciously. “Fire?” she spat. “Fire and those who use it are a menace to all of the clans, and we have not had a pyro-throated beast in this jungle in centuries. Why would we need it?” The healer shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she answered, “but this is the message they’ve chosen to share.”

Bluemane closed her eyes and breathed a sigh, nodding slowly. She opened her eyes once more to gaze solemnly at the moon.

“You’ve never been wrong before,” she breathed. “So be it. Fire will save our clan."


	2. Chapter One

It was so  _ dark _ . Ferrus had to squint to see his surroundings, his green eyes narrowed into slits. From what he could tell, he was in a deep jungle, surrounded by towering trees and with soft dirt under his paws. His large ears swiveled back and forth as he listened to the calls of the animals around him, the rumble of flowing water in the distance. The place was completely unfamiliar, yet somehow he felt right at home. 

The young dragon instinctively closed his eyes, lifted his head, and inhaled deeply, allowing the smells of the jungle to wash over him in a tide. Most of them were unfamiliar to him, but one caught his attention: the warm smell of a small, furry creature. Ferrus’s eyes snapped open and his stomach growled as he realized all at once how hungry he was.

There was a snap, and Ferrus turned his head to see a jackalope padding along only tail-lengths away, completely unaware of his presence. Without thinking, he slid into a crouch, locking his eyes on the mottled grey creature. It paused to dig through the leaves and debris scattered across the earth, and Ferrus seized his opportunity.

Carefully and with the practiced ease of a hunter, Ferrus stalked forward. When he was close enough, he dug his claws into the earth and began to lash his tail in anticipation. The jackalope froze and turned to look directly at him.

Before it could flee, he lunged with his paws outstretched, kicking up leaves and other forest debris. Ferrus landed right on top of the jackalope, shoving it to the ground.

Finally, his hunger would be sated.

The young dragon had no time to enjoy his meal, however, as he was distracted by a strange sound nearby.

_ Thud. _

Ferrus furrowed his brow and looked around, trying to find the source of the strange noise. The jackalope squirmed in his grasp and, desperate to escape, bit down on his forepaw. He cried out in pain and released the creature, staring dumbfounded after it as it fled into the undergrowth.

Ferrus held his injured paw up to his face and rasped his tongue over the small bite-mark left behind. Then, he heard the sound again. And again, and again, and again.

_ Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. _

Ferrus’s eyes snapped open, and the jungle disappeared.

He was lying in his nest of pillows in his den, bundled up in blankets. His den was small, and the only furnishings besides his nest were the set of bookshelves lining the walls, filled to the brim with books of all kinds. The sun was shining through his window, lighting up the space with gentle warmth.

He’d been dreaming, it seemed.

The noise sounded again, and this time he could identify it easily--someone was knocking at his door. Rather insistently, at that.

Ferrus got to his feet and stretched slowly, a groaning purr rumbling its way out of his throat as he did. His claws scratched against the soft dirt floor beneath him. When he finished stretching, he padded across the den to the door and opened it to find another dragon there, a plump male with black and white scales and a worried expression on his face.

“There you are!” the other dragon said, relieved. “I’ve been trying to find you all morning!”

“Sorry for worrying you, Caudata,” Ferrus said sheepishly. “I was just sleeping.” He flicked his ears and looked around curiously, seeing that the other dragons in the village were bustling about with a worried look on their faces, many of them holding bundles and baskets of goods. Ferrus furrowed his brow and looked back to Caudata, seeing now the fear in his friend’s golden eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asked. Caudata winced and looked behind him briefly before he faced Ferrus again.

“You don’t remember?” Caudata said incredulously. “It’s tax day. They’ll be here any minute! That’s why I’ve been looking for you--I wanted to make sure you had something to give them.” Immediately, Ferrus’s heart dropped and he cursed under his breath. How could he have forgotten?

“R-Right, I have something,” he said quickly. “Let me just.” He quickly turned back into his den and looked around frantically for something-- _ anything _ \--valuable he could give. Tax day was only once a season, but it was always a difficult time for Ferrus’s village. They were just farmers, after all, and very rarely did they have anything valuable to give.

Not that they had much choice, though; those who had nothing to give faced terrible consequences, and he knew that.

Finally, though, he found what he was looking for, hidden among the books on his shelves: a delicate golden chain encrusted with gems of all sizes and colors. He’d bought it at the marketplace a few weeks ago in preparation for this day, knowing it would come in handy. He turned and held it up for Caudata to see, and his friend looked relieved.

“You do have something,” he said, clearly surprised. “That’s good.” He smiled softly. “Sorry, I was just worried about you. After what happened to Iacobus…” Caudata trailed off, an apologetic look in his eyes. Ferrus winced slightly, but he tried his best not to let it show.

The disappearance of Ferrus’s father after the last tax day was still a sore subject for many in the village, Ferrus and his family especially. They still didn’t know what had happened to him, but they knew it couldn’t be good. After all, Iacobus had failed to present something valuable on tax day. That never ended well.

“It’s okay,” Ferrus said, swallowing down the wave of grief that swelled up inside him. He had to put on a brave face around his friend, so as not to worry him further. Hoping to change the subject, Ferrus asked, “What are you giving them today?”

Caudata shot him a knowing look, but thankfully his friend didn’t press. Instead, Caudata reached into the cloth bag strapped to his side and pulled out a fine leather coin purse, embroidered with beautiful rose designs. It was a fine piece of work, even in Ferrus’s inexperienced opinion.

“It’s full of coins, too,” Caudata explained. “So… even if they don’t appreciate the craft, I think they’ll appreciate the coin.”

“I’m sure they will,” Ferrus agreed. Before he could ask where his friend had gotten such a fine coin purse, a shout from nearby caught his attention.

“They’re here!” a dragon called as they quickly ran by, clutching a cloth-wrapped bundle. “Come on, it’s time for tax day.”

Ferrus sighed. “Guess we should get going,” he hummed. Caudata didn’t look any more excited than he did, but he nodded. Ferrus closed the door to his den and followed Caudata to the main plaza. The rest of the village was already there, lined up in rows holding their goods. Many of them looked anxious, but a few of them were clearly trying to put on a brave face.

Just as Ferrus and Caudata joined the lineup, they arrived. Ichor, the tax collectors.

Ichor was one of many gangs of rogue dragons that had formed in recent seasons, traveling from village to village and taking ‘taxes’ from each of them in exchange for protection. Protection from what, Ferrus wasn’t sure, but they came every season demanding valuables and food, and those who had nothing to give were punished harshly. Ichor’s leader, known only as The Scourge, never came himself to collect taxes from the villagers--instead, he would send some of his thugs to do his dirty work.

Today, only three Ichor dragons stalked into the village, carrying with them heavy bags and a glint in their eyes that promised nothing but trouble. Unlike Ferrus and the other villagers, these dragons had wings, huge and imposing enough to block out the sun when fully extended. Ferrus recognized them right away and felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight. Immediately, he averted his gaze, not wanting to be the poor fool caught making eye contact.

The leader of the trio was a large, dark grey dragon with a sleek, scaleless body and jagged spines down her back named Nightshade. She’d come to the village for tax day many times in the past, and just like the rest of Ichor Ferrus knew she was bad news. He’d seen her threaten and manipulate dragons out of every coin they had when she didn’t like what they had to offer. Ferrus shuddered slightly at the sight of her and bit his lip, hoping silently that his necklace would be enough for her.

Behind her was a pair of tall, imposing drakes, one white and one black, with matching sharp expressions as they raked their eyes over the crowd of villagers. Ferrus vaguely recognized the white dragon as Aculeus, a dragon who enjoyed cruelty for cruelty’s sake and seemed to delight in tormenting those weaker than him. The black dragon he recognized as Luxidus, a charming smooth-talker with a sadistic streak a mile wide.

All in all, it seemed The Scourge had sent the worst of the worst to do his bidding that day. Ferrus closed his eyes and silently prayed that no one would be hurt.

Nightshade wasted no time in getting to business, coming to a stop in front of the line of dragons with a sneer on her face.

“You all know the drill by now,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “When it’s your turn, hold your offering out and we’ll take it.” She flicked her tail and narrowed her eyes. “If you try anything, you will be punished. Don’t try anything.” She then gestured to the two dragons behind her. “Aculeus and Luxidus will handle collection today.” And with that, the two dragons stepped forward and began making their way down the line of villagers.

Ferrus kept his eyes on the ground as Aculeus and Luxidus made their way down the line of villagers, occasionally commenting on the trinkets and food they were offered. Thankfully, it seemed as though everyone had an offering. Ferrus’s prayers were answered--no one would be hurt.

Finally, it was his turn. Ferrus lifted his head and swallowed uneasily as he came face to face with Luxidus, who was smirking at him. He held out the golden chain and did his best to keep himself from trembling. If Luxidus noticed, he didn’t say anything as he snatched the chain from Ferrus’s outstretched paw and examined it.

“Now  _ this  _ is a lovely piece!” Luxidus hummed. “Where did a groundflyer like you find a thing like this?” Before Ferrus could answer, he quickly added, “Actually, I don’t care. This is going to make a  _ wonderful _ addition to my nest. My mate’s going to love it.” Ferrus silently wondered what kind of dragon would take someone as horrible as a member of Ichor for their mate.

Aculeus snorted nearby and rolled his eyes. “Pulchrior loves everything you give them,” he pointed out drily.

“So they’ll love this!” Luxidus chirped, stowing the necklace into his bag. He didn’t even acknowledge Ferrus, clearly uninterested in giving the young dragon any more thought than he had to. Not that Ferrus was complaining--the less he had to interact with Ichor dragons, the less likely he would be harmed.

Thankfully, it seemed like tax day was over for now. Ichor had gotten what they wanted, and they would leave now. Nightshade had a satisfied expression on her sharp face as Luxidus and Aculeus walked back over to her, their heavy bags of loot dragging through the dirt.

Ferrus let out a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding. As the three Ichor dragons began sorting through the loot to determine who would take what, he leaned over to Caudata.

“Looks like today’s an easy day,” he whispered. Caudata nodded mutely in agreement, clearly relieved.

At least, that was until Nightshade snapped her head up, glaring over at the gathered dragons with clear distaste.

“We’re missing an offering,” she said, her voice a thick snarl. She raked her cold blue eyes like claws over the crowd, clearly counting the dragons there. When her eyes settled on Ferrus, he felt as though his blood turned to ice.

“One of you is missing,” she drawled. “Where are they?”

“I-I think Taeda is still in his den,” a dragon with muted green scales spoke up nervously, their ears flat to their skull. When she turned to look at them, they flinched and added, “H-he said he wasn’t feeling well.”

Nightshade growled and bared her teeth. “Well, go get him!” she snapped. “I don’t care how he’s  _ feeling _ . Everyone must have an offering.” The green dragon nodded quickly and turned to leave, when Nightshade spoke again. “Actually, wait, no. Point me to his den.  _ I’ll _ get him.”

The green dragon swallowed and nodded. They pointed to a den near the plaza, a simple hill with a door and a window like the other dens in the village. Nightshade grinned a terrible grin and stalked towards the den, her long tail whipping back and forth eagerly. When she was close enough, she knocked on the door and waited. After a moment, the door opened to reveal Taeda, a reddish-brown dragon with a distinctive scar across his face.

“There you are, Taeda!” Nightshade said in a faux-pleasant voice. “It seems you almost missed tax day. That just…  _ won’t do. _ ”

Ferrus watched with barely concealed horror as Nightshade lunged and grabbed Taeda in her jaws, dragging him across the dirt to the plaza. He was snarling and spitting and flapping his wings to try and pull himself free, but she was too strong for him. Eventually, they reached the plaza and she threw him to the ground with a grunt.

Taeda tried to get to his feet, only for Nightshade to shove him down again, digging her long claws into his side until she drew blood.

“You-” Taeda growled, only to be cut off by a violent coughing fit. His body shook with the force of his coughing, and it was clear he was in horrible pain.

“Aw, are you not feeling well?” Nightshade purred. “Too bad.  _ No one _ skips out on tax day, no matter the reason. Now, what do you have to offer us?”

It took Taeda a moment to answer, and when he finally did his deep green eyes were filled with terror.

“I don’t have anything!” he insisted. “Please! You wouldn’t steal from a sick, old drake, would you?”

“Steal?” Nightshade asked, feigning offense. “We’re not stealing from anyone--we’re simply taking what is rightfully ours.” She narrowed her eyes and turned to Luxidus and Aculeus, who were watching her with eager grins on their faces.

“Loot his den,” she told them. “Take everything valuable you can find.” The two dragons nodded and quickly walked to Taeda’s den while the old dragon shouted after them, begging them to stop.

Ferrus couldn’t stand by and watch this happen. His horror had faded and was replaced with a righteous anger, and before he knew it he was darting forward.

“What are you-” Caudata began, eyes wide as he watched his friend race towards Nightshade, claws outstretched.

Ferrus collided with Nightshade with a shout, and though she was much larger than him her surprise was enough for him to knock her off of the old dragon. The rest of the village watched in barely concealed shock as Ferrus stood between Nightshade and Taeda, panting and glaring at her.

“You can’t do this!” he snarled. “He’s ill, and you already have more than enough offerings! Just take what you’ve been given and  _ leave _ .”

Nightshade stared at him in surprise, before her expression morphed into one of rage.

“You  _ insolent _ little  _ shit _ !” she roared. “How dare you!” She lunged towards him and slashed him across the face with her long, jagged claws, easily tearing through his face and splattering his blood on the earth.

He stumbled backwards from the force of her blow and flinched, but he stood his ground. Nightshade reared up to attack him again, when Taeda suddenly got to his feet. Before Nightshade could slash at Ferrus again, the old dragon shoved him out of the way. She slashed him across the muzzle with her claws, adding more blood to the dirt beneath her feet, before he shoved her backwards with a roar.

Nightshade stumbled back, shaking her head as if to clear it. Ferrus thought for a moment he saw a flash of genuine fear in her narrow blue eyes, but it was quickly overpowered by anger.

She turned her head and shouted towards Luxidus and Aculeus, “You two, get over here and help me!”

Taeda turned his head and told Ferrus, “Run, little one. I will keep them from following you.”

“But-” Ferrus began, looking back towards the gathered crowd. Caudata was staring at him with an expression of confusion and horror, an expression matched by those around him. Luxidus and Aculeus emerged from Taeda’s den, running towards the plaza. Taeda growled and gave him a hard nudge towards the archway that marked the village entrance.

“ _ Go _ !” he snarled. “Get out of here before they kill you!” Before he could say anything else, Nightshade hissed and pounced on him, biting down hard on his neck.

With no other choice, Ferrus turned and fled into the forest, stumbling over his feet in his panic. He could hear Aculeus and Luxidus close behind, shouting at him for what he’d done.

_ Why did I do that!? _ he thought frantically. He’d never stood up to Ichor before, and it wasn’t as though he and Taeda were particularly close--the old dragon was a newcomer to the village, a visitor from far away with a mysterious past. Why did he risk everything to protect a stranger?

He didn’t have time to dwell on that, though. Now, he had to run. And run he did, out of the village and deep into the towering trees surrounding it.


End file.
